


It's Not A Sin, It's A Riot

by wishfulthinking



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, Boarding School, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:11:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishfulthinking/pseuds/wishfulthinking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You were sent to an all boys Christian boarding school to stay out of trouble. Of course, trouble finds you everywhere and you can hardly call stealing kisses and ties a huge mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome To A Perfectly Disguised Hell

You don't really believe in God; he's like a strange and powerful mythical creature made to either scare the living shit out of people or comfort them in times of need. Somehow Christianity works him out as both. It confused you as the little boy sitting in a church pew on Easter morning and it still confuses you now. And what confuses you even more? It's that somehow you're finding yourself neatly dressed and ready for your new school- a sick joke Bro took far too seriously; just because you don't believe on God doesn't mean you don't believe in the devil, because the devil is standing right besides you, slick shades and all. 

And you sure as hell weren't going to make a deal with him.

"Okay, haha, I got it. Lesson learned. Now please take me back home"

Your voice falters with the hint of nervousness. 

"No, lil' man. I told you, if you fucked up like that again I was sending you away to a boarding school. And sucks for you, but the only one willing to make a deal with me was this one right here."

If you had any dignity left you would give him the finger, but you're pretty sure that isn't acceptable at the moment.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

You groan, picking up both your duffel bags in hand. You had to admit it was pretty stupid and reckless of you to even get yourself into this kind of situation in the first place. Bro had never been one for authority- or at least up until now, so you honestly thought you could get away with anything. And apparently 'anything' got yourself sent into an all boys Christian boarding school. Oh, the joys of having a loving and doting parental figure.

By the time you two have checked in and he's walking you to your room (which was really like a college dorm, if anything) the thought of _when are you actually leaving this place_ occurs to you. You set your bags down as you get to the building, fumbling to find the door key you threw in your pocket.

"Hey, Bro?"

"Yeah?"

"How long?"

He looks over at you, probably studying you to see if you're trying to pull something- hell, you don't _exactly_ know how he works.

"A semester or two. Depending on your behaviour, I guess."

This must be ironic, since you can't even go two weeks in a public school without getting Saturday detention.

You're still trying to find where you put that damn key when the door swings open and something almost knocks you down to the ground in a hurried rush. 

"Oh! Sorry, sir!"

You look up, clutching your head (Goddamn the kid nearly knocked off your shades), to see a boy who looks to be about your age. His hair is disheveled in a black, dripping mess but that's not all; his glasses are askew, which is probably from crashing into you, and it looks like he just got out of bed given the fact that his tie is thrown over his shoulder and his shirt is sloppily untucked. So basically he looks like you in the next few days.

He straightens up with pure embarassment written all over his face. You almost feel bad for him.

The two of you awkwardly stand there without saying a word for a moment. Maybe you should say 'it's cool' and ask him to move out of you way so you can get your dumb unpacking done. But then again, maybe you should try to strike up a conversation. Afterall, this is the first colleague you've met and it wasn't in the particularly best way. Both of these thoughts stop track when Bro clears his throat from behind you. You almost forgot he was there.

The other boy looks away from you and over to him.

"Can you tell us where room B5 is?"

This seems to click in his brain because his frown is replaced with a smile and he runs a hand through his hair.

"Of course! I can show you, if you want! Just follow me."

He turns around on heel and leads you through the door and into a slim hallway. 

"My name's John, by the way. John Egbert. I'm one of the head boys here so if you need anything you can ask me!"

"You're a head boy?"

He stops dead in his tracks to face you, red and flustered, "Uh...yeah...I just...woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning! But anyhow, here's the common room. Usuaully we all hang around here during a free period or in the evenings after dinner. There's a tv you can watch if you can steal the remote quick enough. There's also some games...books...movies. And then over on the other side of the hallway is the kitchen. Well, I wouldn't necessarily call it a kitchen since we aren't actually _allowed_ to cook food. But there's a microwave, refridgerator, and a table fit for three or four of us. Sometimes Gamzee makes this weird jello pie if you're brave enough to try it."

He continues babbling on about accomodations and appliances and what not to touch but you tune it all out. As cute as excessive talking can be, you don't really care.

Eventually you follow him upstairs where all of the rooms are located. They're in order, alphabetized by letter then number. But the entire building is building B so you're not really sure what the purpose of alphebetizing it is. John makes sure to point out where he stays as you pass it though, room B3. He tells you that he shares a room with a guy named Karkat Vantas, who's apparently very loud and very wordy, and it's his job as a head boy to keep him in line.

Bro laughts at it like it's some inside joke.

And then the three of you are standing in front of B5.

"If you still can't find your key, I have a masterkey. Perks of being in charge of the building. I'm supposed to do nightly check-ups but as long as you're good I let everyone be."

He unlocks the door and you follow him in. The room is pretty small, with two beds on each side and a small window set in between. The right side is slightly decorated, and by that you mean it's as decorated as a private school allows. No posters of half naked women, no clothes thrown on the floor, just an unmade bed and a half closed laptop.

"Oh, another thing is, you can have laptops and cellphones, but they can also be confiscated and anyone in charge has the right to look through them. Don't be the guy who gets kicked out because he was caught looking at porn."

You're pretty sure he tries to hide a snort.

"Your roomate's name is Sollux. He's a pretty nice guy once you get used to him. Lunch break is in about forty five minutes so maybe you'll get to meet him soon. I guess that's it....so, um...see you around...?"

He starts heading to leave when you remember that he still doesn't know your name.

"It's Dave."

He smiles, "Dave? Well, nice to meet you Dave."

And he's gone.

"I should be getting outta here too."

Your Bro walks up to stand right in front of you and you're not sure if you should lean up for a tender sibbling embrace or a simple manly pat on the back. Either way, he pulls you up to wrap his arms around you.

"Any chance of you changing your mind?"

He lets go and sighs, "Sorry, but you're stuck here. I'm gonna miss ya though. It'll be a lonely night in Houston with only the warm company of colorful smuppets."

You make a gagging sound.

"Just keep out of trouble, no funny business, and I'll come pick you up and we can pretend this never happened. No weird boys watching you dress in the morning, no old nuns slapping your butt, no touching yourself in the shower while others can see-"

"No to _all_ of those."

He pushes you away only far enough to rest both hands on your shoulders.

"Besides, that head boy is kinda cute. Maybe it won't be too bad."

You shrug his hands off, "I'm not gay."

"Right."

Same old Bro.

"See ya, kiddo"

The door closes behind him with a loud thud.

Everything seems eerie, now that you're alone. Perhaps it's just the strict military style the room seems to have. Back at home your room is...well, _you_ , with ridiculous comic posters taped up on every inch of the wall, cds and garage bought records taking up any free shelf space, and music making programs scatterd about. And this place didn't have anything _you_.  So you start unpacking in hopes that it might magically lifting up your spirits. 

Sheets put on, clothes hung up, and electronics taken out later, you're left with literally nothing to do. According to the small analog clock in the room, the lunch break bell rings in about five minutes. Not that you're gonna go though, you don't know anyone. It would be awkward as hell and things have already gone beyond that.

You decide on just lounging around on your bed. School policy wouldn't let you bring your comics books, but you did anyway. Good ol' SBAHJ. You don't know what you'd do without your handy dandy creations. Gotta let those drawing juices flow somewhere. You get lost in doodling, scrawling out silly lines and text bubbles here and there. Time gets ahead of you and before you know it you hear a door slam followed by the words, "who the hell are you?"

You look up from your art to see someone in your room (you're roomate, you guess, who else would he be), arms folded across his chest and a glare barely hidden behind glasses that would terrify you if you weren't already a little freaked out. His shirt was neatly tucked in and pants formally pressed, but his brown hair stuck out in a way that screamed unbrushed and casual. Even if the slur of a curse word hadn't slipped from his mouth, you'd still be able to tell that he doesn't belong here.

Maybe he's like you.

"Dave. I arrived here an hour or so ago. I'm gonna be staying here for a bit."

A bit because a) you were planning on being taken home or b) wouldn't last long enough before getting kicked out.

"Oh. Sorry. No one told me."

He seems slightly pissed off, and you don't really blame him. If you walked in on your own room to see someone taking up half the space you'd be pretty pissed too.

"I'm Sollux. If you don't touch my stuff or snore then we'll probably get along."

"Alright then. Cool."

You two don't say anything after that; he grabs his laptop and heads downstairs for god knows what while you're left alone once again. You go back to your previous hobby, only to accidentally press too hard and break the pencil tip. Fuck. You slam the paper down and get up, making your way out into the hall and downstairs.

Maybe if you're lucky enough you'll run into Egbert. 

Because your classes don't even start until tomorrow, you've met a total of two people, and you already hate this place.


	2. Friends? More Like People You've Just Met.

If there was one thing you had learned about John Egbert in the past hour, it's that he's a huge dork. After heading downstairs, John had found you aimlessly walking around outside. There was a nice path that led past the housing buildings towards the classrooms, cafeteria, and libraries. If you went past all of them it led towards the pool and field court, which is where the other found you wandering. Since then John has been happily chatting you up, making sure to introduce you into anyone you passes and instructing you on when to hang around these places.

Somehow your conversation led to home life; he asked what you were doing here, if you had any siblings, what you were looking for out of life. You deflected most of the questions. If there's one thing you're uncomfortable talking about it's your personal past and resurrection. You asked him the same though, which he was eager to answer. He has a dad back home in Washington and a sister out of the country living with her grandfather. His dad sent him here last spring when high school wasn't working out so well for him. And he doesn't know exactly what he wants to do in life, but he's thinking about the movie business. You laughed when he told you that but quickly covered up by asking him if he was a part time actor; he stuck his tongue out at you and told you he meant as a critic or director. You smirked and told him that was cool. You never know, maybe someday you two could stand side by side making movies and producing shit. You could compose his film scores.

He likes Ghostbusters, shitty Nicolas Cage films, and lame ass video games that you would never even dare to play. On Sunday evenings he goes into the chapel and plays on the piano after making sure no one else is in there; he's been playing piano since the age of five. You told him he should play for you sometime (with that many years of practice he could be the next Mozart) but he just shrugged and said he'd rather show you a silly magic trick. That's fine, too.

And by now the two of you are sprawled out on the grass, with him sitting crisscross a foot away from you. You lie on your back, hands folded behind you head, humming small 'yeahs' and 'uh huhs' as he continues talking.

"Hey, Dave, can I tell you a secret?"

You turn on your side to get a better look at him, and to let him know you're listening.

"Yeah, of course dude."

"I don't think I should really be here. I mean, most of the other guys are nice. And I don't misbehave so it's not like I'm on the teachers' bad side. It's just that I came here mostly so as an escape. And I don't feel...it."

You raise an eyebrow.

"You don't feel it?"

"Mmhmm."

"Are you saying you don't believe in God, Egbert?"

His mouth opens slightly, "What? Where'd you get that idea from?"

"I dunno. Thought you'd be feelin' the Holy Spirit up in here, that this place would give you some one way trip to your own personal heaven. Is little Mr Head Boy turning into little Mr. imperfect?"

He picks up some grass and throws it at you.

"I'm not saying I don't believe in God. I'm saying that this place isn't cut out for me."

"Yeah. I know what you mean", you blow your bangs out of your eyes and they catch on your sunglasses, which causes John to laugh.

"Why do you wear those? I'm pretty sure they're against dress code policy. Not that I'm gonna get onto you about them though."

He scoots closer to you, as if trying to see them better. Not that you could, or more like, not that there was anything to really see.

"My Bro and I wear them. It's more for an eye condition, really. Light sensitive. But I guess they're for style, too. You gotta admit, I look pretty hot in them."

John rolls his eyes at the last bit, "Of coooursee."

The wind picks up and you wonder if there's a storm on the horizon. You must not be the only one, since John quickly stands up and dusts off his pants.

"We should go in. It's getting late anyways."

You follow him (something that seems to be happening a lot today) back up the path towards the housing. There's two more classes before the day is over and despite not wanting to be stuck in that sorry ass excuse of a room, John has sociology and math to get back to. And there's not many other choices you have.

He drops you off in front of the building, making sure to wave goodbye as you step inside. You wave back with what could be considered some eagerness- okay, maybe not, but you tried and lifted your hand in an attempt that does count- and as you're dragging yourself back up the stairs and into your room it occurs to you that you've somehow managed to make a friend within the first twenty four hours of meeting him. That's what he is, right? A friend. You didn't have a lot of friends back home in Texas; acquaintances come and go easily for you, but no one so far has ever really stuck around long enough for a friendship to fully be developed. Then again, everyone back home is a giant prick. You curse all of your past classmates under your breath.

You swear the day goes by as slow as possible for the next hours. After rearranging all of your belongings, fiddling with some books left in the room, and dozing off for several minutes only to be woken up by the sound of rain, you eventually give up on trying to pass by some time. You didn't have lunch, or breakfast for that matter, so you were sure as hell that you'd be making it to dinner. As if on cue, your stomach growls and you groan, digging your face into a pillow left on the bed.

It's a while before your roommate comes in without saying a greeting, just rushing frantically around his space.

"Do you mind if I change in front of you? Actually, I'm not even asking. I'm just going to change. I have somewhere to be."

You don't think you've ever seen anyone whip out of their clothes so fast.

"You can leave this place?"

He doesn't stop from pulling his legs into a pair of jeans to raise an eyebrow in your direction, "There's a huge difference between the words can and may, and I say can."

You sit up on the edge of your bed.

"Where you going?"

There's no reply from him, just the continuing quick shuffle into a new outfit. When he turns back around he's in a simple t-shirt with a jacket. You look from his outfit to yours and he laughs a little snarkily, "I guess no one told you that you don't need to wear that ridiculous thing until the day you actually start. Tough luck."

Your tongue clicks against the top of your mouth, "I brought some other clothes."

"I sure hope so", he huffs, "Are you going to dinner? Follow me out that so I don't look too suspicious."

You're not really sure how he could look suspicious because when you pass by other students on your way out they're all in casual clothes too, sneakers and all. So much for looking cool.

Despite passing it earlier, Sollux shows you the way to the cafeteria. You're in no room to complain about this because having someone walk next to you is ten times better than being the new kid with no one to hang around; he mumbles something about cheap food and small tables. It's raining lightly so neither of you get really wet, but he occasionally stops to brush some water off of his jacket.

"Just go in and look for someone you recognize, or sit by yourself or something. I don't really care. It's only as awkward as you make it out to be."

He holds open the door for you but doesn't follow you in.

Now, the cafeteria isn't generally a very large building, but you didn't know how many people were actually enrolled into this place until you saw the majority of the student body crowded into a single room. Having someone to sit with was no longer the problem because you found a bigger one: finding a seat.

You make your way to the lunch line (dinner line, same thing), grabbing your plate and looking at your choices. Chicken nuggets, peas, corn, slices of pizza- and oh lord have mercy, apple juice. Heaven might be a real place after all. You grab some pizza and a nice, cold glass of AJ.

"Dave! Dave, Dave, Dave!"  
A set of hands spin you around and you're staring into blue eyes.

Well, that was easy.

"I figured you wouldn't know where to go so I thought I'd come up and meet you. There's a table where I usually sit at with some friends if you want to join us!"

He's bouncing off the walls with excitement and you wonder if he's on some sort of adrenaline rush caused by food or if this is normal behavior.

"Uh...yeah, sure."

He takes you to a table by the far left wall; it's almost pushed up entirely against the wall so you have to squeeze your way to fit on the bench, which makes you lose balance and your tray of food falls on the table surface with a light thud.

"Watch it, fuckass!"

A sharp retaliation is on the tip of your tongue but John gets his words out first.

"Watch it, Karkat!"

The unknown boy looks like he's about to snap something back but stops himself, biting down hard on his bottom lip. He glares at you before mumbling, "Stupid head boy."

John takes a seat next to you.

"Karkat, this is Dave. Dave, this is Karkat. He's a friend of mine."

The two of you speculate each other- he's no older than you. Unless he's unreasonably short. He's got dark curly hair and brown eyes and wears some old worn out hoodie that reminds you of something bought at a thrift store. His family is either poor and he's sent here on a loan or his looks defy his social status.

"He's a friend? I thought you said he was your roommate."

John laughs, "Yeah. Both, technically. We might not get along well but we're best buddies!"

He picks up his fork and waves it around in Karkat's face as if he's trying to make a point.

"Ugh, get that out of my face! Besides that, who's he?"

John reaches over and puts an arm around your shoulders, "Dave's new and it's our job to make him feel welcome! He's from Texas!"

"Easy, Egbert", you let him retract his hand, "I don't need a full entourage."

"Yeah, _Egbert._ "

He pouts and picks up his fork again to start eating. Karkat must not care, since his meal is already half gone and he's talking in between bites and chews. It doesn't even take you five minutes to down your two slices of pizza.

When you're finished a conversation starts back up; John teases Karkat about some anger management issues and much to Karkat's dismay against himself, he's only angrier when he reacts to that. The way he shouts above everyone else is both annoying and hilarious.

The cafeteria starts to clear out when John asks you a question.

"Where's Sollux? I saw him walking with you earlier but haven't seen him since. He's not in his usual spot."

You frown. As friendly and warm John may seem, as a head boy, you're pretty sure telling him the truth would be selling the other out.

"Hmmm? Oh yeah, uh, haven't seen him. He said he was feeling sick so he probably went back into the room."

"Oh. Okay."

He doesn't look convinced but he doesn't say anything else.

"Well, I'm bored and out. I'll see you assholes later."

Karkat gets up from the table and John lets out an irritated sigh, " _Karkat._ "

"I should leave too. Go back to my room. I need to get out of these clothes and crash for the night," you tug on your tie. The damn thing was starting to get really uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I don't blame you. Look at what you've been wearing all day."

He smirks like he knows you're being tortured.

"Oh, shut up."

As soon as you say your goodnights and get back into your room (you don't bother with a shower, hell, you've done nothing all day), you make your way out of the tight-fitted uniform and into a nice pair of breezy boxers. If Sollux was man enough to be half naked around you, so were you. You set an alarm for six thirty in the morning, assuming that that's a good time to wake up. Tomorrow is going to be "a big day" full of classes you don't want to take and teachers you don't want to meet. As you crawl under the covers and lean back against the pillow, you wonder why you never asked to look at John's schedule. Other than sociology and math, you don't know what he's taking. You decide not to care. You don't necessarily make good impressions in class anyway. And unlike earlier, the sound of rain hitting the roof is what drifts you to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so much school work to do I'm drowning,,,in projects,,,save me. Actually, yeah, so updates will probably be slow. On another note I got some cool feedback from the first chapter and wow thank you guys!! I'm usually nervous about publishing my writings so it was really nice to get some comments.


	3. Water Works

_Everything is white and painful. You can't move, you can't speak. You can only hear. Someone's talking in the distance, muffled words and impatient pleas. There are several people, you reckon' . Maybe four if you tune in your ears enough to make anything out. But you can't make anything out; it's all a blur. You try to open your eyes but they're just two heavy weights holding down. You try to open your mouth but it's like opening something glued shut. With each try and attempt everything gets worse and worse and the voices get louder and louder. You want to scream, you want to thrash about. You're locked in though, in an unchanging grip. Maybe if you just reach high enough and wail low enough...._

_You must've done something because the voices stop._

_"Dave?"_

_That voice. You know that voice. It's as familiar as a humid summer day._

_"Dave, wake up. It's okay. Open your eyes, sweetie."_

_There's something in the background, a constant rhythmic motion._

_Beep, beep, beep, beep._

_"You're safe, honey. I'm here."_

_Beep, beep, beep._

_"Just open your eyes."_

_Beep, beep._

_"You can do it."_

_Beep._

The blood rushes to your head, a pounding migraine in your temples, as you sit up fast enough to make your stomach sick. Sweat pools around and soaks your body, making your hair a matted mess clinging to your forehead. You swallow, take a deep breath, and swallow again. In and out, easy, easy. Air. You need air. 

You throw the covers off to the side of your bed and swing your legs around to hit the floor. It's cold to the touch and sends a shiver down your spine, a perfect remedy to your feverish daze. The alarm still blares in the distance but you pay no mind to it as you're busy steadying yourself. You haven't had that dream in a while, especially as a recurring memory. It's not one you're particularly fond of. God, how you hated that woman.

"Are you going to get that or do I have to go slam it off myself?" 

You look up from burying your head in your hands.

Oh. Yeah.

Him.

You reach over and hit the off button of your alarm.

"I'd ask if you're okay because you look a bit shaken up but I'm not sure if it's just the vile uncomfort of waking up this early in the morning."

Sollux doesn't look at you as he says this, just opens up his laptop and starts typing away. He's fully dressed and away ahead of you.

"Yeah, man, I'm fine."

You stand up and stretch, embracing the bitter cold that fills the room. You were expecting this, low temperatures during the mornings and nights. It's not something you're used to though. The cold is foreign and unwanted most days but right now it's a pleasant welcoming. And a small drop of sweat still clings to your brow.

"I'm, uh, going to go take a shower."

Sollux tells you it's at the end of the hall and after gathering your uniform, a small bottle of shampoo and conditioner, and a towel you leave and set out towards the shower room. 

Now, you know how these shower rooms work. It's kind of like, yet again, a college dorm. It's a room full of individual stalls with tiny, dingy, cheap curtains that barely hang from a pole in an attempt to cover up your naked self so others passing by won't see. They don't do their job very well, of course. Bro used to take you along on trips to the local YMCA and half of your horror stories come from there. Crayon eating in the playroom, pee in the pool, and eventually, old men dick sightings in the shower room. You can only wish that the guys here have the decency to cover up or have a big enough package for pride.

You hope for the former.

After an embarrassing episode of stumbling through the hall like a ditz you find the room; the words 'showers' etched plainly into the metal door. You push it open hastily. There's no avoidance of awkward in this type of situation.

What you walk into is a rush of steam. If you weren't sweating enough before, hell are you now. 

From the looks of it, most of the showers are in use. Several others crowd around in a drowsy state- some combing their hair by the mirrors and others struggling to button up their polo shirts. Everyone seems to move around slowly. You stand still and watch them a bit, unsure of what to do. Someone seems to understand this because you find yourself being stared at by a boy half your size (okay, maybe not half your size, but damn he's short). You stare back.

He jumps back a bit, fidgeting.

"Do you, uh...need help finding a shower?"

You continue to stare at him, lips unmoving, before shrugging, "Yeah. I'm new here."

He smiles, "Okay! Uh, as you can see, usually most've them are taken by now. But...uh, there are two in the back that are still open. The key to getting a free shower is either looking in the back or getting here early. I get here early because I, uh, don't sleep very well. Plus showering before everyone else is really nice, actually. There's no one to bother you...."

He leads you down the row of showers to the last one on the left. 

"Those are the lockers you can't put your clothes in while you're showering", he points to a row of lockers and a bunch on the far right, "unfortunately there's no room in the shower to change. A lot of the students here throw their towels over the shower sides. There's mirrors here and everything but you can also go back to your room to finish getting ready. Um, that's really about it."

"Thanks, man."

He scratches at his neck and nods before walking away.

You huff, clutching your stuff tighter against your chest as you find an unused locker to store the clothes in. You settle for a top locker marked 413, making sure to close it all the way with a pop. It's hard to fit the uniform in without having it get wrinkled and all you can think about it is that it's such a waste of compartment. From there you throw your towel over the side of the shower space. 

You shuffle into the shower, setting your shampoo and conditioner (along with your shades) on the small rack nailed to the wall, and get undressed quickly; you kick your boxers under the curtain so they won't get wet. It's an easy handle, so you turn the water towards the big 'C' to cool yourself down. The water hits your back and boy does it ease your nerves. You let it run down your skin, the temperature and feel is as relaxing as it gets; it lifts your migraine and clears your thoughts. You've always loved a good shower.

They were always your thinking place, but also the place to come to when you needed to clear your mind.

After a while you turn it up (it's still cold as balls in this place) and wash your hair. You decide to take your time because hell, what's the rush, you need to look presentable on the first day, right?

By the time you're done with a towel wrapped around your waist and your shades back on, only a few people are left in the room. You take this as a good opportunity to dress without the company of many others. Still holding on tightly to the towel, you go back to the lockers to retrieve your belongings. Just as you're about to walk up, you stop dead- someone's messing with your stuff.

"I'm not entirely sure it's school etiquette to go through someone else's personal items, but last time I checked, it was a big no go."

They seize up, stop, and turn to face you.

The face makes you let out a sigh and relax.

"Oh! Dave! This is your stuff. I was wondering who's stuff it was....this is my locker", John fumbles, closing the locker before opening the next one.

"Yeah, sorry. I didn't know it was anyone's locker, I thought it was a free for all. I'll use a different one next time."

You swing it back open and pull pair of khaki pants out.

"I'm changing here, dude, no peaks without a fee."

John rolls his eyes but looks away.

And as you're dressing yourself, he's undressing himself. You sneak a glance over in his direction and watch him; he pulls his shirt off in a fluid motion before throwing it down on the bench. It's hard to see at the angle, but you can still make out the well built muscles of his chest and arms. Who knew that John Egbert, the most dorkiest man you've ever met, would have a rockin' body. You nearly let out a snort. 

"Dave, are you watching me take my clothes off?"

You nearly let the towel slip from between your fingers.

"No. I'm not some weird ass pervert. Really, Egbert, what do you take me for?"

"Your head is tilted at an angle."

"No, it isn't."

"Uh huh."

"Nope."

"Yeah, Dave. It is."

You lean back against the lockers and smirk, "Tell me why on _earth_ I would want to watch you undress."

John smirks back and slips off his pajama bottoms, "You're secretly out to get into my pants."

You point at them, a pair of brightly blue-lined fabric.

"I do believe you mean _out_ of your pants."

He's left in his boxers and you still have your towel and there's an uneasy silence that settles in between the two of you. 

So he throws his shirt at you.

"Stop making gay advances on me and put your clothes on."

You laugh, dropping the towel and picking up your pants. You slide them on and they're a little big but it's nothing a belt won't fix. You have yours from yesterday back in the room so you make a mental note to remember to grab it on your way out for class.

"Dude, are you not wearing any underwear?"

The look on John's face is priceless, a mixture of fear and flabbergast. His mouth hangs open in shock and his eyebrows arch up in surprise. 

"Nope. I like to feel the breeze, the open, let my dick flow in the wind-"

"Okay, okay, okay!", John covers his eyes, "I got it."

You pull your shirt on, buttoning it up all the way. Much to your dismay, it is wrinkled a bit. You groan in irritation.

You don't think you saw an ironing board here.

Not that you even know how to iron.

"Do you need help with the tie?", John asks (probably seeing your frustration), throwing his own towel over a shoulder and walking up to you.

"Help? With a tie? As if", You grab your tie and wrap around your neck, "A Strider is known for looking good in ties, and knowing how to do them."

"Right, because a Strider must be good at everything."

Now he's catching on.

"Hell to the yeah, Egbert."

"I'll have you know that my family is good at something, too!"

You slip on your shoes as he talks.

"And what might that be?"

"Pranking and baking! We're the best that can be!"

"Please tell me that's not true."

He frowns.

"Yeah? Well, it is. And I am the absolute best right after my grandmother, of course!"

"Well if you're almost as good as an old lady...."

John lightly punches at your arm, "Well, I regret asking if you needed help for you 'specialty' now. I only walked over here to get my shirt back."

"Easy, boy, I'm only making a joke."

You get a smile in return, "I know."

He's already gone to take his shower when you notice the two other boys in the room who were paying attention to you this entire time.

You don't pay any attention back.

* * *

At nine o'clock sharp you're sitting in a desk by the window. The class is English Literature I and your teacher is a woman who you are to refer to as 'Sister Katherine'. She's a stout lady, and maybe as tall as you remember your grandma being the only time you saw her. However, you were only about two when you saw her and that memory consists of nothing but ice cream and knitting blankets. But you know she was really short. And even if you didn't, you found a picture of her in an old box once. And this teacher is just as short. 

She goes through all of the class rules for you- no talking, no cheating, no cursing, no _nothing_.

And then she hands you a textbook marked with your name under the cover. You're told to read through pages 152-173 by the next two days. This seems crazy to you; you don't even know if you've ever opened up a textbook in your life. And you probably won't start now.

After handing you a list of things necessary to bring, she turns to face the rest of the class.

"As you all may now, we have a new student among us. Mr. Strider, why don't you introduce yourself."

You're getting tired of introducing yourself.

Nevertheless, you stand up.

"The name's Dave Strider. I'm sixteen years old and from Houston, Texas. That's about all there is to say."

The class stares at you with the near opposite of a dumbfounded expression so you make a move to sit back down. The teacher stops you, though, holding up her hand in a beckoning signal.

"All there is to say? No dreams? No interests? No reason to be here?"

You nod your head, "I like to rap but other than that, not really, no."

She purses her lips, "All right then, Mr. Strider. Hopefully God's reason for you to be here becomes clear to you soon enough."

You slump back in your seat. Damn, you hate her already.

Picking at the edges of your textbook, you look out the window. There was nothing much of the morning after seeing John. You went to breakfast right after; you didn't see anyone familiar besides Sollux but he was already at a table surrounded by unknown faces. This meant that you never got to ask John about his schedule. And you weren't sure if you were going to get a chance to later. 

To be honest to yourself, you don't know why you keep finding this guy around. Or why you want to keep finding him around for that matter. But you do. 

You really want to be around someone and that someone is John. 

Maybe this is what having a friend means. 

A true friend.

You scoff at yourself because you've known the guy for two days and you're already thinkng this stupid shit. 

You call it sentimental irony.

Continuing to look out the window, you drown out the teacher's lecture and wait for the bell to ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is writing so hard.
> 
> Ahh this chapter was going to be longer but I am oh so tired and I wanted to publish it before I pass out.
> 
> I hope you all have a lovely rest.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't done a chapter story in forever (a few years, actually) and when I woke up this plot fell into my head so I'm gonna go for it. Also the rating will go up as at it progresses, so watch out for that.


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